


Sweet Tart

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: BDSM, But I am overly sensitive and vanilla so no one gets that mean, Especially patronising ones, Fluff and Smut, Joking and Laughter During Sex, M/M, Medical procedures but not as a kink, Mostly praise kink with a smattering of degradation kink thrown in for colour, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, so many pet names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Fingertips scuttle across his shoulder. "Richie. Sweetheart? You ok?"And suddenly he's hit by an electric surge of energy."Sweetheart?" He rolls onto his side, propping his head up, paint-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls style. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"The immediacy with which Eddie's expression goes from concerned to murderous is, frankly, impressive."No." he says. "Fuck you.""Already did, Eddie my love. My Spaghetti Sweetheart. My Puttanesca Prince.""I'm getting the fucking flannels," Eddie says, hopping off the bed and heading out the door. "I can't hear you."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 206
Collections: Anonymous





	Sweet Tart

Richie slumps, contented and boneless, against the bed. 

"I'm gonna get some flannels," Eddie says.

Richie's not sure if he says anything. He might groan. He's more than a little fucked-out.

Fingertips scuttle across his shoulder. "Richie. Sweetheart? You ok?"

And suddenly he's hit by an electric surge of energy.

" _Sweetheart?"_ He rolls onto his side, propping his head up, _paint-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls_ style. "Did you just call me sweetheart?"

The immediacy with which Eddie's expression goes from concerned to murderous is, frankly, impressive.

"No." he says. "Fuck you."

"Already did, Eddie my love. My Spaghetti Sweetheart. My Puttanesca Prince."

"I'm getting the fucking flannels," Eddie says, hopping off the bed and heading out the door. "I can't hear you."

Richie intends to let it go. After all, he didn't exactly _hate_ Eddie calling him that. And if that becomes evident, it could become the kind of thing that ends up being aeons more embarrassing for him than Eddie.

That's his intention. And then he has the weirdest medical exam in the history of mankind.

"So," Richie spreads out his hands to set out the scene. "I'm laying on the table-"

Eddie puts down his fork. "Seriously? We're gonna discuss this in the middle of dinner?"

"-and the doctor says, wait for it, 'Spread your legs for me, _sweetheart_.'"

Eddie's whole face screws up.

"Exactly! I think it's your fault. Like, you spoke it into existence, and now people can't stop saying it to me."

"Your doctor sounds like a creep. You should get a new doctor."

"Oh no no no. It wasn't a lecherous 'sweetheart'. I would honestly feel _less_ weird about a lecherous 'sweetheart'. Like hey, at least she's enjoying the view. No, it was like, an older lady working the checkout at Whole Foods kind of 'sweetheart'. If the checkout lady at Whole Foods was up my ass."

Eddie does not look particularly assuaged by the distinction.

Still, it doesn't stop him launching himself at Richie in the middle of their nightly Netflix binge.

Richie sinks back against the couch as Eddie kisses him with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Oops." Eddie licks apologetically at the broken skin of Richie's lip.

"You little vampire," Richie says, sucking it into his mouth.

Eddie transfers his attention to Richie's shoulders instead.

The couch creaks as he moves down, planting kisses against his torso.

Richie tugs at his shirt and Eddie obliges, taking it off.

"...I wanna fuck you," Eddie says, almost thoughtfully.

"Guh," says Richie.

Eddie gives him an irritated look. " _Can_ I fuck you?"

"Yes,' Richie says. "That was a yes."

"Bedroom," Eddie says. He unzips his fly and gets his jeans and briefs off as he walks over to the bed. Richie tries to do the same and almost catapults himself into a wall.

"Jesus." Eddie says. "Just stay there, Gumby."

He hangs his clothes over the chair, and backs Richie into the wall, kneeling in front of him and pulling his jeans and boxers off. 

He looks up at Richie through his eyelashes. The tip of his tongue darts over his bottom lip.

And then he's bouncing up on his heels, and walking over to the bed.

"Tease," Richie says, going over to join him.

"Whore," Eddie responds easily, and Richie finds himself going very, very still, barely suppressing a shiver.

Eddie looks up when Richie doesn't join him. He raises an eyebrow, looking increasingly concerned. "Sorry. That was uh, supposed to be a joke."

"A joke?" Richie forces himself to move again, joining Eddie on the bedspread. "All I'm hearing are straight-up facts."

Eddie smiles up at him, drags him into a kiss, and topples the two of them over on the duvet.

Then he pulls back. A half-smile is playing on his face. It's the kind of smile he gets when he thinks he's about to say something funny. Now, Eddie is funny _a lot_ , but never when he has that expression.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart," Eddie says, laughter in his voice.

Three things happen in quick succession.

Richie follows orders, without thinking about it.

Richie's cock jumps about 3 inches.

And Eddie's eyes widen, eyebrows rising.

"Uh." says Richie.

"...I really hope that didn't happen at the doctor's." says Eddie.

Richie scratches at his neck. "Ha. No. It's pretty. Pretty user-specific."

"Hm," Eddie says, something tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You gonna keep this in mind the next time you wanna make one of your fucking 'sweetheart' jokes?"

"No promises."

Eddie wraps a hand around Richie absent-mindedly, slowly easing more precome from the slit.

"Does it work with everything?" he wonders rhetorically, tugging at Richie's cock intermittently. "Baby? Honey? Handsome?"

Richie rubs a hand over his eyes under his glasses, trying to hide a little. He's had enough daydreams to know that not only does it work with _baby_ and _honey_ and _handsome_ but also _cockslut_ and _dipshit_ and _fuckwit_ and _mine_ and _hole to fuck_ and basically any combination of letters Eddie could deign to call him.

"Yeah," Eddie answers his own question, thumbing at the precome gathering and smearing it down Richie's cock. "I guess so."

"Eddie," Richie says shakily. "You gotta. You gotta stop."

Eddie's hand stills. "Colour?" 

"Green, it's green, but. You wanted to fuck me."

Eddie's hand starts moving again. Painfully slowly. 

"What are we gonna _do_ with you, baby?" Eddie asks. "We've been doing this for, what, 5 minutes? I can't have you ruining a pair of jeans every time I call you sweetheart," Eddie says, as if this is a regular occurrence, and not something that has happened exactly twice. "What if we're in public?"

Richie tries to talk, tries to distract himself so he doesn't fuck up into Eddie's hand.

"S'fine. You already can't take me anywhere."

"Maybe we should punish you," Eddie says. "Negative reinforcement."

He says it right as his thumb dips into the slit. Richie can't stifle the sound that escapes him.

"Is that a yes?" Eddie asks, and Richie nods enthusiastically. They have their signals, but Eddie needs to check in sometimes anyway. Always carries that little kernel of worry when it comes to control.

Eddie hums thoughtfully. "Ok. Here's the deal. You have to listen to everything I say. You have to keep looking at me. And you can't make a sound." _Eddie's favourite way to set him up for failure._

Richie nods.

Eddie leans down to kiss him, then pulls back. "You look good like this, baby."

" _Just_ like this?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, half a smile on his face. "3 seconds. Well done. You know the rules, turn over."

Richie does, grasping at the pillow, and immediately receives 5 sharp _thwacks_ to his backside. It's still stinging when Eddie leans down, lips just brushing his ear, and says, "You're taking it so well, honey."

Richie shudders. He wonders if he can fuck up into the mattress, get some relief, but who knows what punishment that'll provoke.

Eddie rubs a cool thumb against the plane of his ass. "But you're always good for me, aren't you? So good, and so good for _me_." 

_Fuck_. It's not just the things Eddie's saying, or the fact that he's going along with it. It's the fact that he's seemed to clock into what it all means for Richie, and he's extrapolating. _Who the fuck extrapolates during sex? Eddie, apparently._

Richie is so fucking gone on him.

He focusses on the fact that he can hear Eddie rifling in the drawer, tries to ignore that he's so hard it hurts. He gasps when a cool, lube-slicked finger rubs against his hole.

"Please, Eddie." He's half-stifled by the pillow.

Another strike of his palm. "So good. Just a little _forgetful_ when it comes to the rules."

Richie shuts his mouth. Balls his hands into fists.

Eddie takes his time stretching him out. Brushes against his prostate whenever it seems like Richie is getting a little _too_ relaxed.

Then Eddie's fingers disappear, and Richie feels the head of his cock brush against his ass.

It's not long before Eddie finds that perfect angle, and Richie can't help the occasional fucked out sound

He hears Eddie's breathing quicken. "So-ah. So fucking tall. So fucking _big."_ He reaches around to take Richie's cock in his hand, and Richie groans, long and broken.

Eddie giggles a little breathlessly. "So fucking _wet._ "

Richie's not even coherent enough to be embarrassed, too focussed on the growing pool of heat in his abdomen. "Eddie. Eds. Eddie, fuck."

"You gonna come for me, baby?" Eddie asks, and Richie sees white, fucking into Eddie's palm, spilling against his hand and himself and the white bedspread.

He whimpers a little when he comes back down, Eddie still fucking into him.

"You-ah. Had enough?" Eddie asks, running his fingers through Richie's hair.

Richie shakes his head. Eddie's been so, so good to him, especially _today,_ and it's so, so important that he takes every little bit he wants from Richie.

Eddie's breaths get shorter and sharper. "Love you. Fuck, Richie, I-" And with that, Eddie pulls out, collapsing on his back.

Richie's not ready to face the light, or Eddie's face, but he slings a hand over Eddie's torso and pulls him closer, listening to his breathing get slower.

"That good for you, Pumpkin?" Eddie asks, teasing lilt to his voice.

"Shuddup," Richie mumbles, and nuzzles into Eddie's shoulder. "Love you."


End file.
